


Lost In The Rhythm

by Flayedprincess



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, charlastor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-23 10:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23110243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flayedprincess/pseuds/Flayedprincess
Summary: Running the Happy Hotel is proving to be far more stressful than Charlie could have ever imagined. She's lived a life of privilege up until now, the life of a princess - She never thought she would face so many challenges, so many people who want to see her fail.Alastor believed himself one of those people. But the Radio Demon is not quite what he seems to be... Nor are his intentions, as well as motives, quite as clear as the princess initially believed.
Relationships: Alastor/Charlie Magne, Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Comments: 8
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

Charlie was determined not to long for _any_ of the luxuries present back home at the Magne manor.

No, not a single thing. Definitely not the music room that was her father’s pride and joy – stocked full of every instrument imaginable, all in immaculate condition. Gleaming guitars, violins, flutes and saxophones all fine-tuned and right at your fingertips… Not to mention his favored grand piano that Charlie had loved to make her own “melodies” on when she was just a little demon, seated on her father’s lap.

Nor would she allow herself to miss the kitchen and it’s overflowing quantities of delicious food just waiting to be devoured. The tantalizing scent of apple-centric pastries constantly wafted from it… Those mouth-watering dishes were a far-cry from the constant takeout and fast food she’d been ingesting to stave off hunger for the past couple of weeks. But the taco truck, admittedly, _was_ growing on her.

And so, there she was – Standing beneath the sad stream of water struggling to spittle forth from the rusted shower head, completely lost in thought. No, she was not going to allow herself to miss those things. They were unnecessary and she had only enjoyed them before as an ignorant and _very_ privileged youth. No one really _needed_ a stretch limo… much less three of them. And no one _needed_ that beautiful, scenic garden her mother loved so much, the one with all the red roses that never seemed to wither and the fountain with that silly goat statue spewing water from it’s mouth.

Nobody _needed_ that amazing ensuite bathroom back home – the one with the jacuzzi tub, with the massaging jets. There was _no_ way she’d allow herself to fantasize about that now.

“ _I wanted this.”_

It seemed as though Charlie reminded herself of that every single day. She dropped her eyes to the bottom of the bathtub and watched, unfazed, as a cockroach peeked it’s head out from the drain and then disappeared.

She did want it. Deep in her heart, she knew it, too – The Happy Hotel was her dream, and she was _going_ to see it become a reality. But she had effectively ripped herself from everything she knew, all of her creature comforts, as well as her family, in pursuit of that goal. And that had finally begun to take its’ toll on her.

With a pallid, claw-tipped hand she bent down to twist the hot-water knob – not that it was actually producing any hot water anymore. That ran out after about five minutes. She’d been enjoying an icy cold shower for the past fifteen minutes, or however long she’d been standing in there exactly. It was no surprise the knob itself subsequently fell right off and hit the bottom of the ancient clawfoot tub with a loud, reverberating clang. The shower head continued to drip a bit, as it did all the time.

Stepping out carefully onto a rug, she wound herself up tight in a towel and stepped toward the old, pedestal sink. It was the same face she’d always known – Porcelain skin and big, dark eyes with naturally dark lips… Yet _something_ had changed.

She smiled more now, sure, though oftentimes it was a facade – just a mask. She had to put on a happy face, she _had_ to be the cheerful beacon of hope her guests had come to know and, hopefully, love. They’d come to her with hope in their eyes and faith in their hearts, because _she_ had made those promises to them. She, and she alone, had offered the prospect of redemption to destitute, lost souls all across the Nine Circles.

But she never considered just how much of herself she would give in the process. She was _tired_.

Every ounce of her being had been poured into the hotel, and its occupants, since she first held the keys. And while she didn’t regret that fact at all, it was beginning to show. Giving others a chance at a better life didn’t mean she had to watch her own come to a screeching halt, nor did it mean she had to forget about any of her other interests, hobbies and things that just made her feel like _her_.

There had to a way to balance business and pleasure. If need be, she’d _make_ a way – before she cracked.

After dressing, she combed through her long, platinum locks and waved a hand – using some sort of demonic gift or magic to help speed up the drying process. A little blush applied to her nearly-white cheeks, using a circular technique, and she was nearly ready to go. She would’ve loved to have maybe enjoyed a bubble bath and taken a little extra time primping, but there was no time for that. There was no telling what chaos could have transpired downstairs in her brief absence…

Stopping to slide on her shoes, a little smile began to pull at the corners of her mouth. Things couldn’t have gone too far south – not with the two of _them_ acting as dutiful sentinels.

Vaggie and Alastor appeared to have nothing in common, except for the fact they loved to see Charlie smile. Many of the hotel’s guests were afraid to cross Vaggie now, as just a _taste_ of her wrathful side was enough to intimidate even the most tenacious demon. And if the testy moth demoness’ fiery temper somehow failed to remind a guest they ought to be thankful for Charlie’s hospitality…? Then they had to answer to Alastor.

 _His_ abilities required no demonstration. Almost everyone in Hell knew him and what he was capable of. And no sane soul would willingly want to be on the receiving end of his cruelty.

While they shared a common goal, it appeared to be a growing point of contention between the duo. As though they were almost competing against one another in some ridiculous game of _“who can make Charlie the happiest?”._

She laughed, she couldn’t help but do so, as she descended the stairwell toward the lobby. Perhaps Vaggie’s jealous nature was simply clashing with Alastor’s own attitude of _“anything you can do, I can do better.”_. Though, he certainly didn’t initially strike the demon princess as the sort of man who needed some sort of daily affirmation that way… Though he was largely an enigma to her, still. To _everyone_ , really.

And there he was. Speak of the devil, so to speak…

She paused halfway down the stairs, holding onto the shining handrail Niffty polished every morning, and watched for a moment.

He did not possess the most welcoming demeanor, thus he often left tours of the premises and check-in’s to someone else. Mainly, he just stood by and watched… Intervening only when it was absolutely necessary. He appeared particularly deep in thought that day, that saccharine smile still plastered on – though his crimson eyes were far, far away as he leaned comfortably against the front desk.

“Something… on your mind, Al?”  
Charlie spoke softly as not to spook him, an unlikely possibility, as she eased up beside him.

“On my mind? Certainly not, sweetheart. It’s all static up there!”

A hollow thump came from the microphone at the end of his cane, a silly sort of sound effect he’d conjured up, as it bumped against his head.

While she couldn’t help but giggle, Charlie was painfully aware that was a sweet little lie. He was the Radio Demon, a title he had earned quickly following his arrival in Hell… And justly so. He was a mastermind – his head was _far_ from hollow, full of empty static.

“You just seemed a little, I dunno – out of it, there for a moment.”

Following an awkward silence, she held up her palms quickly. “N-Not trying to pry or anything! Just… Worried about you, is all.”

His unsettling grin spread just a little further. “Worried? About _me_? Well, I’m awfully flattered, princess-”

Charlie unintentionally tensed when he stretched out an arm, resting his clawed hand on her shoulder.

“-but you needn’t plague that brilliant little mind of yours with concern for me. I’m only surveying… _studying_ , perhaps. Watching these aspiring angels of yours wander about. It’s awfully funny to watch them, as some of them are afraid to do anything at all _–_ out of fear it will drag them further from their salvation. Yet, even _we_ don’t know what will save them in the end. If _anything_ can!”

His uproarious fit of laughter was not shared by Charlie. His words cut like a knife… an expertly sharpened, honed sort of dagger. He was there to help, sure – he had been awfully transparent with his intentions from the moment he crossed the hotel’s threshold – but his endgame goal was _not_ the same as Charlie’s, not by a long-shot.

He was willing to put his impressive powers to use, and was even inclined to call upon friends and cash-in on favors to benefit the hotel… It appeared as though there was little limit to what he would do to see the place thrive. Though that was all, ultimately, for selfish reasons.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall – The more demons that flocked to the hotel in search of a second chance at redemption, the more enjoyable it would be to watch them eventually succumb to their dark nature, to fall victim to the sin that had landed them in Hell in the first place. The more entertaining it would be to see the entire operation fall apart.

At least, that’s what he’d said on the day he and Charlie first met.

He squeezed her shoulder gently, using his other hand to carefully lift her chin upwards with a clawed fingertip to meet his smiling face once more. She could feel her already heavily-rouged cheeks turning redder from the sudden proximity of their faces. “Of course, you _could_ prove us all wrong, dear – me, especially! Who knows!”  
“Yeah… You’re right. I um… I’d better to work if I’m gonna do that, huh? I’ll see ya around, Al…”

Smoothly, she slipped out of his arms and began actively seeking something to do. There was no shortage of jobs to be done or chores any other day, but of course the to-do list was void of potential tasks on that particular day. She opted to move absentmindedly about the lobby, adjusting a vase here and fluffing pillows here and there. The room was already spotless thanks to Niffty’s keen eye – it was a pretty sorry distraction.  
Being near Alastor for too long was dangerous – those vermillion eyes were hard to look away from when stared into for too long. And just thinking like _that_ was dangerous enough.

Vaggie… Sweet, sweet Vaggie.

It was a picture of the two of them on vacation from a couple of years ago, back before their relationship had blossomed into something more than friendship. Both were smiling – huge, jubilant smiles as the photo had been snapped mid-laugh. Charlie felt a distinctly harrowing pang deep in her chest as she straightened the frame on the wall… She knew what it was. Guilt. She would never do anything to hurt Vaggie – she was so caring, so selfless… What more could one ask for in a partner?

Yet thoughts of Alastor continued to plague Charlie’s mind, taking root and spreading like some sort of poisonous vine she was utterly incapable of weeding out. His smile, his laugh… Even the way he carried himself was captivating. He was so impossibly charismatic and undoubtedly charming, but above all… He was dangerous. She was not _so_ naive as not to see that.

And _she_ was taken.

She was quickly stirred from her reverie when a sequence of heavy knocks to the front door reverberated through the lobby. The high ceilings added dramatic effect to _every_ noise, for better or for worse…

_Bang, bang, bang._

Most demons didn’t bother knocking – it _was_ a hotel, after all, and they had been open for business officially for a few weeks. It was fairly common knowledge among all of Hell’s denizens now that the place was open to the public. Perhaps this individual just wanted to make their presence known.

From the corner of her eye, Charlie could see Alastor push off of the front desk and straighten his bowtie. “It’s okay, Al! I’ll get it.”

He offered no response beyond a polite nod, but he still followed closely behind the demon princess as she approached the double doors. He stuck to the shadows, not wanting it to be inherently obvious he was doing so as she undoubtedly would be offended by the fact he believed her, in _any_ way, incapable of handling something so small on her own.

His gaze was unwavering, practically _glued_ to the grand double doors as Charlie flung them open. While his smile remained uninterrupted, something had changed in his demeanor… He had grown tense, rigid.

Alastor’s instincts had not failed him yet. He’d been right to feel on edge.

On the opposite side of the threshold, an imposing figure nearly blocked out the sun entirely, casting a long shadow over Charlie as she waited to greet the newcomer with a broad smile.

“Hi, welcome to the Happy Hotel! If you’re looking to take a tour, I’d be glad to show you around. Or, if you’d like to skip straight to check-in, I-”  
She was quickly silenced as a large hand waved in front of her face, rudely dismissing her as well as anything further she had to say. “That’s enough of all that, now. I’m here to… _see_ somebody.”

His voice was low, guttural… Yet smooth like a lover’s provocative, raspy whisper. It sent a shiver down Charlie’s spine, chilled her blood in the veins.

“Oh, uh… Of course!” She stammered. She hadn’t had any prior experience with visitors – most of the demons that checked themselves in were without friends or loved ones to come see them or check in on their progress. Never in a million years would she have imagined _this_ intimidating man would be the first demon to care enough to stop by for a visit.

He was tall, taller than Alastor, and dressed even more flamboyantly. Every aspect of his attire called attention to himself – from the bright red suit, lined with crisp white fur, to the long feather poking from his hat. He cracked a smile – a crooked, unnatural looking sort of smile – and extended a hand toward her.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot there, lambchop. It’s been a long day. You know how that is, don’t you?”  
His sharpened teeth were stained red… Why, she couldn’t say. Among the bloodied-looking fangs, however, was one gleaming, golden one. She was fairly certain she’d seen something like that on someone else, on almost the exact same tooth.

“Right…” Charlie gingerly rested her small hand in his extended palm. It was at that point she noticed he possessed two sets of arms – two of his four hands were tucked away in the pockets of his expensive coat.

His grip was almost a little too firm, and he didn’t let go just yet. Plastering on another brave smile, she continued, “So, you’re here to see someone, yes? If you’ll just give me your name as well as theirs, I can look them up and give them a call to let them know you’re here-”

His grip was suddenly upon her wrist, squeezing tighter now and bordering on uncomfortable. She could smell his breath, now, he was so close – and it was _not_ pleasant. The distinct aroma of alcohol wafted off of his tongue. “That won’t be necessary. Just tell me which room A-”

He couldn’t stand by anymore.  
Alastor finally interjected. In one smooth movement, he had freed Charlie from the stranger’s grasp and began acting as a wall, standing between the two. “Valentino. What a _surprise_ seeing you here!”

A low rumble emanated from somewhere deep down in Valentino’s chest, finally escaping his lips as a growl. “Alastor…” He leered with red-eyed scrutiny, looking him up-and-down. “I could say the same about you. Is _this_ all you can find to do with your time now?”

He tossed an unimpressed glance over the entirety of the lobby, and a couple of demons quickly fled when his malicious gaze passed over them.

Massaging her wrist, Charlie glared at the back of Alastor’s head. She didn’t need him to intervene. She didn’t need _anyone_ to intervene… When were they going to see that? Regardless of her emotions concerning her capability to fend for herself, it appeared Alastor at least knew this strange man. He’d put a name to the face… And now she knew _just_ who he was.  
_“I need to tell him… Maybe he could leave, out the back door.”_

“You’d be surprised at just how delightfully engaging this little hotel can be! A funny thing it is, indeed… _Demons_ hoping to be redeemed. I could watch for hours as they fight with themselves, wrestling with an inborn desire to sin. I think even _you_ would find it entertain-”

“Where do you think you’re going, lambchop?”

Charlie stopped, as though her feet had been frozen to the floor. And that cold chill from earlier was making its way back down her spine. She’d made it halfway across the lobby, she was _almost_ there. Almost to the stairs, then she could head straight up to Angel’s room and-

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’. Christ on a cracker, all this commotion over little old me?”

Despite the smile upon Angel’s face, a wide, toothy sort of grin – one with a shiny gold tooth – Charlie could see right through it. It was a mask, not too unlike the one she’d been wearing as of late. He descended the stairs in a gleeful fashion, skipping a few steps along the way.

She remained frozen in place as he passed her, though her hand shot out to gently grip one of his four arms. Her voice was little more than a whisper as she rushed to get the words out, “Hey, you don’t _have_ to go with him. I’ll help you… That’s what I’m here for.”

The spider demon’s mismatched eyes appeared to study the pleading expression on the girl’s face, if for only a fleeting moment, before he snatched his arm away. “How about you stay outta my business, toots?”

Venom dripped from his every word, and Charlie couldn’t deny it actually _stung_ to hear Angel talk to her that way.

Glancing over her shoulder, she watched as Angel practically ran into Valentino’s waiting arms. Gone was the Angel she’d come to know in the past couple of weeks – an easygoing fellow, charming with a wit as sharp as a tack. He was lovable, beneath that nonchalant attitude he attempted to maintain all the time. Valentino’s presence had helped surface a different side of Angel – a shallow version, a fake.

The spider waved over his shoulder toward the princess as he headed out the door, arm-in-arm with a grinning, victorious Valentino.

“Lambchop, if this silly hotel business doesn’t work out for you – I’ve got _just_ the job for you.”

The silence that followed Valentino’s echoing, vulgar laugh as the doors slammed shut, was _deafening_.

“Why did you let him take him!?”

Alastor pivoted on his heel to face Charlie, her eyes blazing. He knew there was a demon princess, a _real_ one, beneath her charming exterior. It was bound to come out sooner or later. “Why did _I_ let him take him? My dear, it’s simple – it’s none of my business. Nor yours, to be quite honest.”

Her steps were more like stomps as she closed the space between herself and the Radio Demon. She jabbed a finger against his chest, leaning onto her toes so that they were more evenly-matched in height. Her eyes were like the burning pits of Hell themselves, red-hot flames twisting and curling as her now-slitted pupils threatened to bore a hole straight through him. Surprise, genuine surprise, was evident on his cadaverously gray face… And his cheshire smile was at its widest.

“It _is_ my business, Alastor! That’s why I’m here! That’s why I’m _doing_ this!” She flung her arms outward in frustration, a snarl tearing from her chest. “I want to save these people. I want them to know they can _be_ saved… No matter what it is that they feel is holding them back – even it’s someone like that asshole! He needs to know he can’t just show up and steal Angel away. He’s hurting him, can’t you see that? Angel was doing _so_ well, until he showed up…”

The burst of frustration and sheer rage that had fanned Charlie’s inner flame had successfully run its course. She slumped down into a chaise lounge pressed against a wall, beneath a collage of framed family photos, reverting back to her original form – no more red eyes or sharpened teeth, nor horns threatening to burst from her forehead.

She was content to stare at the floor for awhile. She could count the tiles, or study each individual crack that ran through them for a few hours. She would much rather waste away doing that, than venture into thinking about what poor Angel Dust was being put through at that moment.

“Charlie…”

She lifted her gaze from the floor, a defeated expression still gracing her soft features – though what was before her now was enough to cause her brows to raise.

Alastor knelt before her now, a clawed hand resting upon her knee. His smile was the closest thing she’d seen to a genuine one since they had met. He carefully propped his cane up against the lounge upon which she sat.

“My dear,” he began. “I’m terribly sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but you cannot hope to fight _every single one_ of these sinners’ battles. In a perfect world, it would be just so – but _we_ don’t live in a perfect world. We just weren’t fit for it.” He cast a glance upwards – not toward the ceiling, per say, but further up. _Much_ further up.

“I have to, though, Al,” she could hear her voice cracking, and she sucked in a breath of air to hopefully stave off the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. “I’ve made a promise to everyone that comes here – that I would do my best to guide them toward salvation, toward a better life. And I intend to stay true to my word, no matter the cost.”

“Stepping on the toes of men like Valentino, however, is going to make that dream of yours all the more difficult to obtain. He, and others like him, would love nothing more than to make your life a... _ha_ , living Hell - if you'll pardon the expression - for acting as a thorn in their side. There are other ways to deal with… _pests_ like him. Subtle ways, you see?”

“So… You’ll help me? With Angel, I mean, getting him out of Valentino’s grip?” She couldn’t deny, Alastor had made her heart all but flutter there.

He let out an audible sigh, but then slowly began to nod. “Yes. I suppose so… Though, my services do _not_ come with a satisfaction guaranteed stamp.”

“Oh, thank you, Al! I’m so sorry I lashed out at you earlier!” She flung her arms around his neck, burying her face against his neck. Despite the fact his entire body went as rigid as a wooden plank, she continued to squeeze. He awkwardly patted her back in return.

“Think nothing of it, darling.”

While Hell’s own princess held him tightly in her arms, he was forced to stare at the painting hanging above the chaise lounge – one of her between her mother and father. Lucifer was frightening, even in painted form – where he was little more than a few brushstrokes on canvas, incapable of hurting anyone. His impossibly broad, shit-eating grin rivaled the one Alastor usually donned… But as he stared up at the king of Hell’s grinning face, he could feel his own smile falter for the first time in a very, very long time.


	2. Chapter 2

There was no way in _Hell_ he was going to allow anyone to get caught up in his bullshit.

Because it was _his_ bullshit. His and his alone – his burden, his cross to bear.

Angel stumbled along, not really sure if he was coming or going anymore. It certainly _seemed_ like he was going the right way – after all, he’d made his way home to the hotel following one or two benders and he’d been _way_ more messed up then.

Of course, there was a significant difference between being high out of your mind of your volition… And getting the absolute shit beaten out of you. He couldn’t say he was a fan of the latter.

From the corner of his eye, he’d caught a passing glimpse of his reflection in a large window. It was part of a crumbling storefront, one of many along that particular street. Beyond the glass were long-forgotten mannequins, toppled over and collecting dust. Bleached posters and advertisements hung on by singular pieces of tape, Hell’s unforgiving sun having faded the details of whatever the shop used to sell long ago.

Nearing the glass, he was finally able to take a good, hard look at Valentino’s parting gift to him earlier in the day. Raising a hand toward his face, he very carefully brushed his fingertips along the bruise surrounding his swollen right eye. With a hiss, he quickly jerked his hand away once more and leaned in closer. He wanted to _really_ look at it.

The biggest part of the developing black eye was a deep, ugly shade of purple. Though there were splotches of yellow around the edges – an equally hideous shade. They did nothing to compliment one another.

“You should see the other guy!” He joked to no one in particular, as he was alone on the sidewalk. Ordinarily his wisecracks wouldn’t fail to make him at least chuckle… Not this time. He couldn’t force any semblance of a smile if he tried.

Pressing his forehead to the glass, he shut his eyes and found momentary reprieve there on the lonely street. Who was he kidding? There was no other guy – he hadn’t fought back after Valentino landed that initial punch. He didn’t protest when he slapped him so hard he’d seen stars. Nor did he stand up for himself when the tongue-lashing began… And the words almost hurt worse than the physical portion of the assault.

“ _I don’t wanna hear that you’ve been spending time at that hotel anymore. I was stupid to let you waste time, time you could’ve been using to make me money, dicking around there in the first place. What’d you think, that uppity little princess could really redeem the likes of you? That she'd actually want to? All her guests are just playthings to her, a distraction from her royally boring life. She doesn’t give a shit about you. No one does. No one but me… And you’re testing my patience. I’d hate for you to make me hurt you again.” _

The black eye did hurt. The sting in his cheek from the slap had not yet gone away. And Valentino’s words were still ringing in his ears… But above all, a blossoming realization deep within hurt the _most_.

He didn’t really _belong_ anywhere.

People never accepted him for who he was when he was alive, though Vaggie had informed him times were changing up above when she’d kicked the bucket. There was growing acceptance for people like them – things were far from perfect, but progress was progress…

And just like an imperfectly-cut puzzle piece, he didn’t quite fit into the picture in Hell, either.

He was scared when he’d first arrived – scared and alone. His father was there, sure, but he would sooner experience dying all over again before actively seeking _him_ out. Valentino had been the first to take pity on Angel, offering him a place to stay, food to eat… And at _first_ , his generosity required no compensation. Angel couldn’t hope to see the obvious red flags past that undeniable magnetism.

It didn’t take long for things to head south. Val’s controlling nature soon began to seep out – beginning as a trickle, as not to give the spider any indication he should run. But before long, it was a flood and Angel was drowning.

“ _You know you’re my favorite, Angel baby.”_

He could hear him now – the sound of his voice a low, resounding purr deep in his ear. But his honeyed words were just that… Lies. He’d lure him in with just the right amount of sweetness time and time again, before snatching his chain and reminding him of just how _insignificant_ he was. How _unwanted_ he was. How no one else was going to look out for him like _he_ did. And Angel fell for it every time.

He began walking again, a little faster now due to the fact he’d gotten his bearings straight once more. The fiery, burning orb that was Hell’s sun was beginning to set behind the buildings now and it would be dark soon – and this was _not_ the side of Pentagram City one wanted to be alone in after dark. Although maybe it would be a blessing in disguise to get mugged now. At least _then_ it'd be easier to explain the black eye, if anyone asked. Maybe it wouldn't be terribly obvious to _someone_. Charlie would know now, though, without a doubt.

Charlie… What a sweet girl she was. Too sweet for this rotten place, that was for sure. He cringed as he was reminded of how he’d spoken to her earlier, and how hurt she had looked when he left with Valentino. But he _had_ to do it. There was no way he’d risk getting her tangled up in Valentino’s web, nor would he contribute in getting her put on his shit-list. He’d seen what happened to the ones that topped _that_ list… Angel had even been forced to carry out some of those punishments.

Valentino dealt with those that… _inconvenienced_ him, so to speak, swiftly. And it was never pretty. When it came to money, as well as the poor sinners responsible for _making_ him money? To say he didn’t play around was an understatement.

The thought alone of Val feeling Charlie was a threat was enough to elicit a shudder. He folded all four of his arms around his body, hugging himself defensively. No, he couldn’t bare to think of her on the receiving end of Valentino’s rancorous punishments. He struggled to think of _anyone_ that deserved such a fate.

With a sigh, he turned his eyes toward the darkening sky. Nights in Hell were dark, darker than he remembered them being in the land of the living – of course, he’d been dead for over 70 years. Pausing to take in his surroundings, he could finally see the sign atop the hotel glowing amid the smog that permeated the city, cutting through the developing darkness. He must’ve been walking faster than he realized – in a hurry to get home.

Home? No. The hotel was most definitely _not_ his home… Though it was the closest thing he’d gotten to it since, well, _dying_. Maybe even prior to.

It sure was a fun place. The constant camaraderie between all the guests, the unlikely staff… Admittedly, there was constant work to be done – Angel even found himself stuffed into a bellboy’s uniform a time or two, asked to lug around suitcases or deliver room service – but it just felt _right_ there. While he had to be on his best behavior, he didn’t have to pretend to be happy.

In fact, it wasn’t all that hard to forget about the drugs or the alcohol there. He didn’t _need_ them there – there was no reason to drown out the world around him when it wasn’t all about satisfying Valentino’s sleazy clients, as well as the demeaning things he had to do for them, or acting in his awful films. That craving, that _desire_ , for those things never fully left him – addiction didn’t work that way, after all – but it was _so_ much easier to resist there, among friends.

But it was because of those friends, because of his growing affection for them, that he had to distance himself. His comfort meant nothing, in the grand scheme of things, compared to their very lives. Well, _un-_ lives. And if he continued to pal around with them, Valentino was going to do everything in his substantial power to cut all of them short.

Before he knew it, Angel had arrived at the front doors. They’d only just recently been repaired, following some nutty snake demon named Sir Pentious blasting a hole right through the main entrance to the place a couple of weeks prior. Alastor made quick work of dealing with him, however – a little bit _too_ quickly for Angel’s liking. It was comforting, at least, to know he’d be around to look after Charlie, Vaggie and the rest…

With a deep breath and a sigh, Angel ran a hand through his hair before heading through the double doors.

-

“You want to _leave_?”

Charlie’s heart had sunken to the deepest pit of her stomach. The very breath had been knocked out of her – Angel may as well have slugged her.

Like _someone_ had clearly slugged him. These weren’t his words. That man… _Valentino_ was pulling the strings here, and Angel was little more than his marionette.

He’d dropped the news on her so suddenly. He strode into the hotel, sporting that huge black eye, then waltzed right up to her and said he was checking out – _Immediately_. Then he headed straight for his room, with not another word.

He slammed all four hands down upon the top of his suitcase, causing the demoness standing in his suite to flinch, forcing it shut. “Yeah. I think it’s time for me to blow this popsicle stand, y’see?”

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, as she struggled to find a sequence of words that made any sense. “I… What? Why? Everything was going so well, _you_ were doing so well! I-”

Leaning nonchalantly against one of the bedposts, Angel dusted off his jacket, inspecting a little speck of lint before flicking it away. “Why? Why _not_? There’s too much waitin’ for me out there, too many opportunities for somebody as young and _tantalizing_ as me!”

Charlie didn’t laugh when he growled flirtatiously at his own reflection in the mirror across the room, a hollow chuckle following suit.

With a groan, he threw up his arms before beginning to pace about the room. “Lighten up, will ya, sister? We both knew this wasn’t gonna work out. Not for me, anyways. I’m sure you’ll save somebody’s soul yet. But it sure as shit won’t be _mine_.”

She angrily swiped away a tear with the sleeve of her blouse. She wanted to shout at him, wanted to shake some sense into him. But even in her current state of frustration and anger, she could see that wasn’t what he needed. “It could be,” she choked out. “you just have to have faith in the process! Faith in _yourself_. I do! I have faith in you! Doesn’t that mean anything to you? You’ve been doing _so_ well… Made so much progress-”

With an exasperated wave of his arms, he cut her off. “Cut the waterworks, alright? Listen to me-”

Already, this _hurt_. As he closed the space between them in just a few long strides, he could feel his heart begin to break. Like a porcelain cup under too much pressure, little fractures were spreading fast.

“-You don’t _know_ me. You don’t know the first thing about me. Hell, nobody here does! You think there’s somebody worthwhile, some _great_ person, beneath the surface just waitin’ to burst out – well, there ain’t. You don’t know about the things I did when I was alive, the people I killed, the families I helped to tear apart. Kids left without a father, widows left grieving… And man, oh man, I wasn’t strong enough to cope with the shit I’d done on my own. Couldn’t take it like a man – nah, I had to get fucked up out of my mind! Then, one day… I did just a _little_ too much. I just wanted to forget about it all for awhile. And that’s all she wrote.”

There was nothing Charlie could do to stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks now. Like a folding chair, she closed up on herself – arms folded tightly across her chest, nails beginning to dig into her bicep.

“Nah, you’ve got good intentions but you don’t _know_ what it’s like up there.” Angel cast a disdainful look upwards. “You haven’t seen the things people have to do to end up down here. You haven’t seen what _drives_ a person to do those things. And how could you? You’re royalty, after all, you’ve never hit rock-bottom, never had to struggle. You don’t know what it’s like. There’s no use wasting your time on me – I am what I am. A fuck-up, a loser suffering from his own bad life choices. Just as it ought to be.”

“Shut _up_! Don’t talk like that, Angel!”

Suddenly, her hands were on his chest and she shoved. She didn’t mean to – she _shouldn’t_ have – but damn it, it was infuriating to listen to him talk that way. She had clearly ruffled his feathers as his entire demeanor changed then. He squared his shoulders, even bared his sharp teeth.

“Do _not_ push me again.”

“I’m sorry! But listen to me, Angel. You’re not wrong about me! I really _don’t_ know anything about the land of the living! I am just a stupid, privileged princess who doesn’t know the first thing about _real_ life, like everyone says. But I want to _change_ that.” Pressing her hands to her chest, Charlie shook her head fervently as she inched closer to him once more. “That’s why I need you. I need you here to guide me, to teach me, so that I can better help you… so that we can save others _together_. You see? That’s the thing… I can’t make this work alone."

He stared down at her. She didn’t really need him. She just couldn’t see how capable she _really_ was.

If he didn’t hurry up and finish this, he was going to fall apart right in front of her. “You’ll be alright without me. Someone new will come along to help you out – the place is steadily gaining the media’s attention now. You’ll have a waitlist that runs all the way out the door! You don’t have to settle for _me_.”

“Angel, I don’t want someone new. I want my friend. I want _you_ here with me.” Her pleading eyes met his own in a final, desperate attempt to get him to stay. “I’m not settling, I’m _choosing_ to have you around… flaws and all.”

For once, Angel Dust found himself at a complete loss for words. He had no clever comebacks, no humorous deflections loaded in the chamber. The demoness across from him sniffed, choking back more tears as she stared determinately at him with clenched fists. She meant it – he was forced to accept that fact now. She really meant it, she really wanted him around. Valentino had been all wrong about her. She didn’t care about his messy past, his constant struggle with addiction, what an absolute asshole he could be sometimes… Or the fact he was chained to Val.

And it was exactly that indiscriminate affection that Charlie possessed for him, perhaps for _everyone_ there at the hotel, that acted as the final nail in the coffin. He _had_ to go – and quick, before there was a chance to change his mind.

With an undeniably solemn shake of the head, he finally broke the silence. “I’ve gotta go, now. Be seein’ ya, Charlie.”

While Valentino’s feature films didn’t exactly require acting abilities of the _highest_ caliber, Angel had learned a thing or two during his frequent visits to the studio. He’d mastered the art of concealing his emotions, pretending everything was okay when he felt like the world was crumbling around him. He could smile when all he wanted to do was cry, and he put that skillset to use as he plastered on an entirely neutral expression before turning to the mirror and checking his appearance before scooping up his suitcase.

Charlie didn’t react as he brushed past her heading for the door. She didn’t turn to watch him leave, didn’t see the way he hesitated in the doorway for just a moment before his disappeared from view. The sound of his footsteps traveling down the stairs reverberated in her brain, though she couldn’t find it within herself to react. She flopped unceremoniously on the bed when she heard the heavy front doors close.

He was gone. She felt… _numb_. There was no other way to put it – she had failed him. But what more could she _do_? There were boundaries that demanded to be respected, in every case that came to the hotel seeking help and salvation, and she couldn’t just chain him up and never allow him to leave. Rehabilitation, _successful_ rehabilitation anyways, didn’t work like that – she knew that. The desire to change, to put the past behind you, to be _saved_ … that had to come from within.

Gripping the comforter beneath her, claws tearing into the fabric, she bit down on her lip. He was going back to Valentino, and it felt as though there was nothing more she could do to save him from that wretched individual now. He’d made his decision, and she could do nothing to force him to change his mind now. Earlier, there had been the slightest _glimmer_ of hope for Angel's future... but right now, she wasn't so sure.

“Hey, hun… You up here?”

The sound of Vaggie’s voice was little more than a distant ringing at first, and it was only when she called Charlie’s name that the princess shook head, snapping herself out of it and responded with a weak, “Yeah. In here.”

As quickly as the silver-haired young woman poked her head into the room, she rushed to Charlie – enveloping her in an all-consuming hug, nearly squeezing the breath right out of her lungs. “Oh, Charlie… I saw him go. I’m _so_ sorry.”

She felt tears threatening to pour from her eyes like waterfalls once more, but she suppressed the urge to begin blubbering in front of Vaggie. She’d cried in front of one person already, there was no desire in her heart to do so in front of someone else. Her father always told her not to cry in front of anyone... It showed a certain level of weakness _no_ member of the Magne family should possess. Just another way in which she'd disappointed dear old dad.

Winding her arms around the moth demoness’ waist, she eagerly absorbed every ounce of tenderness Vaggie poured forth – from the way she stroked Charlie’s blonde locks, to the way she’d run her nails across her back so comfortingly.

The princess could practically _feel_ the anger emanating from Vaggie, however. An empath’s curse, she picked up on things like that.

Even when she didn’t want to. The air felt thick with rage, all of a sudden, and tossing a glance toward Vaggie’s face, she could see her lovely features contorted into a scowl as she stared out the window. She knew what she was thinking – Angel ought to have the other eye blackened for hurting Charlie's feelings.

“Please,” She began, pulling back from the embrace, “don’t direct your anger towards Angel. This… isn’t his fault.”

“Huh?” The other woman’s brows knitted together, blatant anger shifting to utter confusion. “Don’t blame him? _He’s_ the one that walked out! After everything we’ve done for him… Who else am I supposed to blame? Not you, that’s for damn sure.”

Charlie wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. Maybe she _was_ partly to blame, somehow, but ultimately the villain in Angel’s tale of woe was quite clear. “Valentino. He showed up earlier today, after you’d left to post those new flyers for me, to get Angel. He’s… afraid of him.”

Vaggie was familiar with him. After she’d first arrived in Hell, he was quick to approach her – believing she’d make for a fine addition to his… _“talent”_ roster. It went without saying that she promptly laughed in his face. While Valentino did not intimidate _her_ in the slightest – she’d known _plenty_ of men like him in life – she could easily see how many were manipulated and gaslit by him. “He didn’t threaten you, or hurt you, did he? Valentino?”

With a groan, Charlie’s head lolled backwards as she turned her attention toward the ceiling. “No, Vaggie, even though that’s not the point. Al was here, and he stepped in…”

She didn’t catch the sudden twitch of Vaggie’s manicured brow.

“Angel left with him, he was gone for a few hours… Then he showed back up with that black eye, acting totally unlike himself. He came up to me downstairs and said he was going to check out immediately and I ran after him, followed him up here. I tried to tell him how he didn’t have to go, that we wanted him here… He said he was worthless, said all these awful things about himself. I tried to tell him, Vaggie, I _really_ did-”

“Shh, _dulzura de mi vida,_ ” She cut her off before the waterworks could begin. She could see from the puffy eyes that Charlie had been crying already, and she couldn’t bare to witness it herself. Cupping the other young woman’s pale face in her hands, she offered a reassuring smile. “I know you did. It’s hard, sometimes, in Angel’s situation, to see that you _can_ exist without that person whose made themselves so important. I’m sure Valentino’s warped his mind, told him he can’t get on without him so many times, for whatever reason, that he believes it. It happens more than you may realize up there among the living, too.”

Following Vaggie’s pointed gaze upwards, Charlie sighed. “Seems there’s a lot about life up there that I just don’t seem to get.”

“The most important thing you should know is this is _not_ your fault.” Vaggie’s hands slipped down to her shoulders, giving her a gentle shake. With a quiet huff, she added, “it isn’t Angel’s, either, I guess. We just have to give him time to come back around. We can’t force ourselves into his life – he’ll only push us away even more.”

“But what if he never _does_ comes back around, Vaggie?” Rising from her seat on the edge of the bed, Charlie began to pace. It was a habit of hers, one Vaggie had seen plenty of times before… she was brainstorming. “We have to do something. We have to… I don’t know, talk to Valentino, maybe. Or break Angel out of Valentino’s hideout! Or wherever he stays…”

Vaggie took a seat on the stool before the dusty, old vanity in the room with an exasperated sigh. Some of Angel’s belongings were still scattered across the surface of it, as clearly he really had been in a big hurry to get gone. “He doesn’t have a hideout, hun. His studio is in plain sight – he’s so well-guarded he doesn’t _have_ to stay hidden. You want to start something with someone like him? You _really_ think that’ll end well for us?”

“Alastor said it was possible!” The princess’s face lit up, reminded of his words earlier – before the falling out with Angel. “He said there were ways to deal with someone like Valentino. And I’m sure he knows all about it, since… well, he’s dealt with quite a few other overlords here before.”

Vaggie’s nails threatened to puncture the skin of her palms she’d clenched her fists so tightly. There was hardly a _moment_ that cursed Radio Demon’s name didn’t pop up in conversation anymore. Charlie was fixated on him – he could do no wrong. But in reality he _could_ and he _would,_ sooner or later. “I wish you wouldn’t place so much trust in him, Charlie. He’s bad news, he’s dangerous. You just said it yourself! You’ve heard of how he made a name for himself right after he arrived here. People are afraid of him – and they _should_ be! It baffles me that you aren’t.”

Neither woman was really in the mood to argue about Alastor. But it would be easy to… And it wouldn’t be the first time, either. Charlie caved, holding up her palms in defeat. “Alright, alright… Let’s just drop it for now, okay? I’m exhausted.”

Vaggie knew that, and she’d known it for weeks now. Charlie had forgotten to care for herself, completely enveloped in concern for others. Rising from her seat, she brushed a few stray hairs behind her lover’s ear. “Alright. But you know you can’t keep going like this, babe. How do you intend to look after everybody else when you drop from exhaustion? If I have to strap you down to make you get some rest, I will.”

With a roll of her big, dark eyes Charlie couldn’t help but giggle. “I don’t doubt it. Um... Will you stay with me, tonight? I don’t really wanna be alone.”

“How could I _hope_ to resist?”

Vaggie kissed the back of the pallid hand that was placed in her own, before the duo exited what was no longer Angel’s room. It would remain untouched, however, Charlie decided as she shut the door, staring poignantly at it for a moment. She had to remain positive, somehow… If she didn’t have hope, what _did_ she have?

The hotel was fairly quiet that night. Angel’s abrupt departure was witnessed by everyone lingering downstairs in the lobby, the main congregational area, and had put quite a damper on everyone’s spirits. He kept morale up, in his own distinctly rebellious way – everyone hated to see him go so suddenly.

Alastor was also clearly aware of Angel’s withdrawal. Vaggie practically cringed seeing him waiting cooly outside the door to Charlie’s suite, while the princess herself seemed… relieved.

“Oh, Al. I’m _so_ happy to see you haven’t decided to leave, too.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my dear.” He took an over-the-top bow, a hand over his heart. Charlie’s giggle was practically girlish as she rolled her eyes playfully.

“ _How very gentlemanly. Gag me.” _Vaggie was helpless against her own savage thoughts in the moment as she stared, unimpressed, at the Radio Demon as he rose to his full height once more. 

He began, “I’m terribly sorry to hear of our effeminate friend’s sudden exodus. I imagine it must be absolutely crushing for you – you were awfully worried about him earlier, after all. I cannot say I didn’t expect to see _most_ of these prospective redeemed souls to abandon ship, but he was among the few I did not see giving up so soon. You must remember to keep your head up, of course! And keep on _smiling_.”

“You think that’s what she needs to hear right now? _Keep on smiling_?” There was a bite to Vaggie’s words as she glared at the red-clad man.

He didn’t respond. He only kept on grinning.

“It’s okay, Vaggie.” Charlie squeezed her hand gently before turning her attention back to Alastor. “He’s right. You said nearly the same – I can’t let myself get caught up in all the negative stuff or I won’t be able to help the others still with us. But I _am_ going to get Angel back. I’m not going to let him waste away with that… that _prick_ Valentino. You’ll still help me, right, Al?”

There was a certain look in his disturbingly red eyes – the reddest Vaggie had ever seen – when he looked at Charlie then. It made her stomach turn. Not because it was a particularly malicious look, but because of how she had just witnessed his gaze actually _soften_ for the first time. She didn’t believe this heartless maniac was capable of looking at someone that way – least of all _her_ Charlie.

His mouth opened, but Vaggie interjected before he could enunciate a single word. “Of course he will, Charlie. We’ll all do our best to help get Angel back. Right now, though, _you_ need to get some rest.”

Taking a graceful step back to allow the girls access to the door he’d been blocking, Alastor watched closely as Vaggie practically shoved her partner through the doorway. “Goodnight, princess. And goodnight to the princess’s vigilant defender, as well. Sweet dreams.”

He audibly sucked his teeth once the door slammed shut in his face. Vaggie had looked all but _victorious_ as she disappeared from view. He studied the grain of the wood, the panels, as well as the tarnished doorknob for a moment. The indistinguishable sound of radio static emanated from his very being, the occasional shrill hum cutting through the white noise. Snippets of music made their way through the chaotic, fuzzy sound, but never more than a word or two of the lyrics. The racket grew in volume and intensity, and reality itself appeared to tear around him – to _glitch,_ even. The eye in the center of his microphone atop his cane glanced around wildly, as though even _it_ was concerned over what was happening, what was transpiring within its master’s mind.

Then, all of a sudden, it stopped. His unnervingly calm gaze at the door before him was severed as he abruptly turned on his heel and began down the hallway, whistling a happy, old-timey tune, his usual grin apparent upon his face once more. He swung his cane cheerfully, the eye having closed and disappeared for the time being.

No one had been around to witness the bizarre moment – and perhaps it was for the best. It would have surely scared off a couple more demons from the premises, and he would’ve hated to admit to Charlie _he’d_ been at fault.

“Husker, just the man I was hoping to see!”

Back to his charismatic self, Alastor sidled up to the bar once he stepped off of the bottom stair, having reached the lobby. The cat demon was drumming his claws against the surface of the bar in a bored manner, his chin resting in his other hand. His striking yellow eyes, with slitted pupils, watched closely as the Radio Demon approached. He’d known him long enough to know something was… off. And it took a hell of a lot to throw _Alastor_ off-kilter.

Picking his fangs with the tip of one sharp claw, he eyed him up-and-down. “What’s eatin’ you?”

“Eating _me_? I’m certain I don’t know what you’re talking about, old sport.” Alastor’s chuckle was the single most forced thing Husk had _ever_ heard.

“Right,” Standing upright, he occupied himself by polishing a nearby glass that was already spotless. It was easier than meeting Alastor’s disturbingly empty gaze as he just kept _smiling_ at him. It never failed to give him the creeps. “Well. Can I… _do_ something for you?”

He was expecting a firm no. Maybe the creepy guy just wanted to hang out there at the bar awhile? Unlikely, but Husk struggled to think of anything else he could _offer_ him. He wasn’t much of a drinker-

“Something strong would be _delightful_ , my old friend.”

Drinking dulled the senses. That’s why most people liked it so much – with just a couple glasses of the right stuff, you could forget about _everything…_ But Alastor ordinarily liked to keep his wits about him. His calm, yet calculating nature, helped make him… well, him. At least that had been Husk’s belief. “I… Uh… Alright, then. You got it.”

He was quick – he’d had quite a few years of experience bartending, after all – and before Alastor knew it, a glass tumbler full of amber-tinted liquid slid across the bar his way. He swirled it around, curiously eyeing the drink within, before taking a swig.

It burned all the way down, like liquid fire – Hell’s liquor was considerably more potent than the living world’s – but it felt so, _so_ good. The warming sensation traveling down his throat all the way to the pits of his stomach perfectly mirrored the burning hatred he felt for that moth demon, smiling at him as though she figured she’d won the race before it could even begin. With that infuriating, smug smile…

“Holy shit! The fuck happened!?”

Husk had whirled around to be met with Alastor clutching the remains of the shattered glass in his fist – he’d squeezed so tightly he’d crushed it. The little remaining cinnamon whiskey that had been in the glass was pooling across the surface of the bar. Intermingling with it were a few drops of Alastor’s blood, bright red – just like everything else about him. A sharp shard of the glass’s remains had nicked his palm.

“Oh, dear me. I don’t know my own strength!” He laughed, and the few other demons surrounding the bar followed suit – perhaps they were afraid to do anything but. “Do forgive me, Husker.”

Husk acted quickly, ready with a rag for cleanup. “Think nothin’ of it… Listen, man, maybe you oughta’ get some sleep. You don’t, uh… Seem like yourself.”

The redheaded demon nodded silently, watching the mess be wiped away for a moment with that never-ceasing grin spread across his face. “Some rest sounds splendid. I’ll see you tomorrow, Husker. Apologies about the glass…”

Rising from his seat with a wave of his hand, Alastor had materialized several exact replicas of the tumbler – they appeared on the bar before Husker out of thin air, causing him to flinch. He had also apparently sealed the cut on his palm, as there wasn't a trace of it remaining when he waved to Husker, heading for the stairway.

Something _was_ wrong with him and Husker knew it now, beyond a doubt. There was lurking suspicion at the back of his mind, concerning precisely what it was, but he’d landed himself in hot water for _assuming_ before. And assuming _that_ sort of thing about Alastor would surely mean his demise if word of it ever got to the Radio Demon himself.

If he was right, however… He knew it wouldn’t be long before it came to a head. Husk really, _really_ hoped he was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for joining me for chapter two! This felt like a long one - hope that's okay! I know I jumped around a little with focusing on different character's POV's, so to speak, hopefully that wasn't confusing.  
> I appreciate every single comment, like, etc. that I receive - they motivate me to keep going. Anyways, thanks for reading and please stay tuned for chapter three. :)


	3. Chapter 3

The following days at the hotel were altogether uneventful.

A couple of guests had opted to check out, as unceremoniously as possible, following Angel’s departure from the rehab program - and that was about all that had happened. None of them felt too great about their decision after seeing the pained look in Charlie’s eyes after they turned in their keys, but they were beginning to feel as though they were a waste of space and resources. The hotel had an overabundance of space, admittedly – vacancy was not _really_ the problem. However, resources – such as food – as well as available staff members to help run the place were in high demand. The demons who had opted out of the program had enough concern, at least, for others to leave the help to those they felt could _actually_ benefit from it.

Charlie found that a little ironic, yet she couldn’t convince them nor force them to stay. Just like with Angel.

The staff she did have were doing their best to keep the place afloat amid the day-to-day chaos. She couldn’t ask for better volunteers… could she _call_ them volunteers, really? Either way, they had settled in nicely and benefited the hotel in ways they would never know.

Husk did a great job manning the bar and helping to keep spirits raised, in more ways than one. He could be a little… brusque, sure, but people seemed to like him. They _really_ liked his drinks.

 _Drunkards shall not inherit the kingdom of God_ – so it was said. In moderation, however, it couldn’t hurt… right? The cut-off limit was remarkably low – each guest was permitted only one or two drinks per day. And Husk was careful as to not make them very strong, either… Though it _was_ easy to get a little heavy-handed with his pours, at times, when he had become so accustomed to that method of mixology prior to his work there.

Niffty helped to keep morale high with her expertise cleaning abilities. It went without saying, Hell was not a particularly clean place – the streets were littered with all manner of deceased lowlifes who kept the place in a perpetual state of filth. Littering was nearly _encouraged_ , down there, in certain parts of Pentagram City. However, as the staff aspired to turn the hotel into a beacon of safety and absolution, one of the main focus points in making the place completely unlike any other in Hell was to make it _clean_.

And Niffty had done her best to make it so. Every morning and every night, she dusted, swept, mopped and polished – the smell of cleaning chemicals was a little overwhelming in the beginning, but she was slowly becoming the master of her obsessive compulsive tidying ways, and now almost every room was pleasingly fresh. She turned down each guests’ bed at night, and helped by discreetly searching their rooms for any sinful contraband they may have snuck in from the outside… then quickly disposed of anything she discovered. There were certain things beyond the nit-picky little cyclops woman’s control – such as pests, like the occasional rat or bug – but in due time those would, _hopefully_ , flee on their own. They sort of came with the territory.

Vaggie, of course, helped by picking up the slack wherever was necessary. She was not the best at dealing with guest complaints – she’d blown up on someone for calling down to the front desk to gripe about noise from a room adjacent to their own – though there wasn’t any time for her to join in on anger management classes when she was so busy helping run the place. Instead, she often focused on helping with scheduling and other paperwork, finding the work relaxing… albeit a little boring, at times.

And finally, there was Alastor. With his impressive abilities – be they voodoo, hoodoo or just plain _magic –_ he was a _massive_ help in any way he chose to assist withthat mastery of whatever occult skillset he possessed. He could conjure all manner of things from seemingly nowhere, make old things appear brand new again, not to mention whatever it was he used to deal with Sir Pentious awhile back… Charlie often wondered what had happened to the snake demon, though she was hesitant to ask.

The princess had noticed, however, that Alastor was not without limits concerning what he could do. He, like everyone else, could overexert himself, as it was obvious his arcane capabilities took a toll on his body when used too frequently or in great capacity. He would _never_ allow someone to acknowledge this willingly, as it was undoubtedly a form of weakness.

She was more or less the same – as the daughter of Lucifer and Lilith, two of the most powerful demons in Hell, naturally she had hellish abilities of her own.

They differed from Al’s, admittedly, but they came in handy when absolutely necessary. She found they had one thing in common, concerning their powers, however. She also found herself drained after using them too extensively. A sort of exhaustion that affected not only the body, but the mind, too… She sympathized, having seen Al look a little paler on a few occasions, with noteworthy dark circles beneath his eyes.

It was usually when he returned to the hotel after prolonged excursions out into the city that he looked that way. She often wondered what he’d been up to in order to come back looking so dreadfully tired, but dared not to ask. His enigmatic nature told her he would likely ignore the question altogether and change the subject, or maybe just lie… or _maybe_ he would take offense to her prying into his affairs outside the hotel. Either way, it was perhaps for the best to just avoid the topic altogether.

It really _wasn’t_ any of her business. But while with each passing day it seemed as though she learned something new about Husk or Niffty, or any of the hotel’s guests – heck, she was still learning new things about _Vaggie_ – Alastor, and everything about him, remained largely a mystery. And she was practically aching to know more…

What did he like to do in his spare time? Did he even _have_ any room in his schedule for frivolous activities? She was fairly certain he wasn’t overtly fond of television, but he _did_ seem to love music – just like her.

Maybe she was grasping at straws, desperate to put a crack in the wall that Alastor had apparently built up around himself – a wall that obscured everything that made Al, well, _Al_. But she just knew there was more to his personality, more to his very _being_ , than just a mysterious, smiling entity with an apparent fondness for jazz. Just like everyone else, Alastor had a heart full of hopes, dreams and aspirations… and Charlie wanted to know _all_ about them. She wanted to know all about _him_. It would be a difficult journey, sure, making a genuine friend out of the infamous Radio Demon… but she was convinced it was not impossible.

The phonograph seemed like a great start.

Just trying to locate one, a _working_ one anyways, proved to be a fine distraction from Charlie’s worries concerning Angel. Until the idea about the retro music player appeared in her mind, she’d been unable to get him out of her mind… and thoughts concerning what Valentino had done, or was doing, to him had sent her quickly slipping down a depressing slope. She’d all but forgotten about the spider now, but it would take a little time to organize a plan, a _real_ plan, concerning his rescue from the malevolent pimp. Running in blindly would only make matters far worse…

But, she did find one. A phonograph, they called it – some sort of vintage record player. She was largely unfamiliar with the device. She knew _one_ thing… It had cost nearly an arm and a leg. The crotchety, greedy old owner of the antique shop was wholly unwilling to haggle (whether his customer was princess of Hell or not) – but it was worth it, in the end. And he had, at least, wrapped it up in a box and some brown paper for her once she’d forked over the money.

Getting it back to the hotel was an effort all its own. It was heavy, and she wouldn’t dare ask anyone for help with it. They’d want to know _who_ it was for, then _why_ , then why weren’t _they_ getting a present… But she managed to lug the package all the way there, then through the back door and on up the service elevator (the only working one in the hotel, at the time) on her own. Finally, it reached its destination – Alastor’s room/office.

He was gone when she arrived – thankfully, otherwise the entire covert portion of the operation would’ve been for naught. That had been purely a stroke of luck, as he did not adhere to any set schedule, coming and going as he pleased.

With a groan, she sat the large box upon a little accent table there in his room, near a well-worn, red chair that she guessed he might like to relax in. _Did_ he ever relax? Either way, it was awfully dark in there, as she hadn’t had a free hand to flick the light switch, and it was only after she’d heard something fall to the floor that she was made aware anything else had even been sitting on the table.

“Crap… hope I didn’t break it.” She whispered, squatting down to pick up what she recognized as a photo frame once her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Turning it over in her hands, she was met with the smiling face of a woman she’d never seen before, surrounded by a frame of ornate, gold filigree design.

The photograph itself was old, black and white and not of the greatest quality – but the lady seemed… _kind_ , somehow, though Charlie didn’t know the first thing about her. Her smile was so wide, yet so genuine, and her eyes seemed to twinkle in that certain way a person’s eyes did when they were really, truly _happy_. She was beautiful, with a cheerfulness that seemed to just radiate from her.

Without realizing, Charlie was smiling, too, as she looked at the lady frozen in time. But before she could stand back up and put the frame back in its rightful place, the doorknob turned with a _click_ that glued her to the spot, freezing her with fear.

Her thoughts were a whirlwind inside her head – should she hide? Maybe she could hop into the armoire… but then, what if he didn’t leave his room for awhile and she was stuck in there? Maybe she could just slide under the bed… It was _high_ enough off of the ground, and she was pretty slim.

It was too late, now, either way. A hand tipped with sharp claws reached from around the other side of the door, slowly, so _painfully_ slow – as if he were actually _going_ for dramatic effect – and flicked the light switch. She winced against the sudden brightness, slowly bringing herself to stand upright as he entered the room.

The pair locked eyes immediately. His unwavering grin was unnerving as he simply stood there, staring at her for a few seconds too long without speaking.

Charlie exhausted her entire vocabulary searching for the right words to say. _“Oh, he’s pissed. This was a mistake…”_

“Charlotte, my dear! What a surprise to find you up here. Were you _looking_ for something?” His line of sight flickered toward the picture frame she was gripping for dear life now.

He’d seemed so… profoundly intense just moments ago. But in an instant, that terrifying seriousness had washed away and he was back to his normal, relaxed self. Charlie almost felt nauseous, her stomach feeling as though it had been training for the olympics, doing all sorts of gymnastic moves as it twisted up upon itself nervously. She was so distracted by his jarring, sudden change in demeanor that she hadn’t noticed he’d called her by her full name – something he’d recently taken to doing. Normally this would have irked her a bit, as she _insisted_ people call her by her nickname.

“I…” following his eyes, she was met with the beaming, genial face of the lady in the photo once more. She began to word-vomit like a pro, “Oh… Oh, no! I wasn’t… looking for anything. I just… I accidentally knocked this off a minute ago, because I was _trying_ to do something else, and I was just going to pick it up toput it back and then you-”

He cleared the space between them in just a few strides of his long legs, never tearing his eyes from her own. The stare was a little uncomfortable, like a predator stalking its prey, and Charlie forced down the lump stuck in her throat as he seemed to bore a hole straight through her. Was this some sort of weird intimidation tactic? If so, it was working. He couldn’t keep flippantly switching between calm and seemingly bloodthirsty!

“Listen, Al, I’m sorry… I think I better go-”

She was quick to return the photo to the table, right beside the still-wrapped gift, before hastily heading for the door. She felt a shot of warmth rush through her body as his hand shot out to grab her own, in a surprisingly gentle manner. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she was met with a smile… but this one was sincere, it didn’t stretch across his entire face as though his very life depended on his constant grinning.

He cleared his throat, “That’s my mother in that picture, you know.”

Charlie _thought_ the smile had been vaguely familiar… But she was too stunned to speak. Had he _really_ just admitted something about his personal life, without her even asking or prying? Moreover, she couldn’t deny she longed for his hand to be back in her own when he slipped away to pick up the photo himself.

“Couldn’t you tell?” He held it up, mirroring the smile almost identically. He gazed at the picture, then, with a certain softness and affection she had never seen from him before. It was only momentary, though, as he quickly tore his gaze from it – as though it pained him to look at her. “She was quite a lady. And a helluva cook! Remember that jambalaya I made for us all, not too long ago?”

Chuckling nervously, Charlie nodded. She still felt a little on edge, feeling guilty as she really shouldn’t have been poking around his room. “I do. That was some good stuff! You’re a pretty great cook, Al… you must get it from her.”

“Oh, my culinary skills pale in comparison to hers. I’d die to taste her cooking again… Well, die _again_ , I suppose!” His laugh was infectious, she couldn’t resist giggling alongside him. The mood shifted quickly, however, as he sat down the frame a final time. “I’m afraid I won’t be seeing her ever again, however. She and I… traveled very different paths following our deaths.”

He needn’t elaborate further. That realization made Charlie’s heart truly _ache_ – what a painful experience that must’ve been, as she knew humans found _some_ comfort in death, knowing they would see their deceased loved ones again when they, too, passed. That had not been the case for Alastor. The last time he’d seen his mother was really the _last_ time.

“I can only imagine how hard that was for you…” Some subconscious part of her had sent the signal to her brain to reach out, to take his hand once more. And so she did, and without realizing it, she’d begun to stroke the back of his hand gingerly with her thumb. “I’m sorry, Al. I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories.”

It was only when he spoke again that she realized how very close they were. Their joined hands were nearly pressed against his chest, now. He showed no intention of moving away, no _desire_ to, as he said, “Memories of my mother are just about the only, _truly_ good ones I have from my time among the living. I must say I'm enjoying my stay here in Hell substantially more. Thanks to people like you, my dear."

The air grew heavy, and Charlie could only compare the atmosphere to what it felt like to stand outside as a storm gathered – calm, yet incredibly intense. Electricity was in the air itself, causing goosebumps to raise on her skin. She was, once more, at a loss for words. Maybe they didn’t _need_ words right then. The gaze they shared was not a frightening one, he wasn’t implementing any sort of subtle scare tactic to try and intimidate her now. It was a rare occurrence to see Alastor’s face receive any sort of break from the constant, mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth – but his eyes had fallen closed and his smile was little more than a thin, upturned curve now, showing none of his sharp fangs anymore.

He was actually quite handsome – Charlie couldn’t help noticing the angular curves of his face such as his strong jaw and straight nose. She’d always known he wasn’t particularly bad-looking, but when his expression softened that way… it was undeniable. However, though the tender moment was one she didn’t _ever_ want to end, she was forced to confess it was all wrong. The way they lingered there, so close to one another, neither really wanting to put any space between them? It was dangerous…

“I…” she began slowly, “suppose I ought to tell you why I was even in here in the first place.”

His blood-red eyes slowly opened once more, an eyebrow arching curiously. His smile began to grow, though thankfully it had not extended as painfully wide as usual just yet. She wanted to enjoy that sweet, gentler version as long as he would permit her to. “I’ll admit you’ve piqued my curiosity, darling.”

The way the pet name rolled off of his tongue that way caused her to finally withdraw her hand from his own, she loved the way it sounded just a little too much. Moving around him quickly, she placed a hand proudly atop the wrapped package. “This!”

Turning to face her once more, he brought a hand toward his chin – stroking it as he studied the box, as if he was doing his best to guess what was within. “What, exactly, is _this_?”

With a laugh, she waved him closer. “Open it and find out.”

Charlie anticipated a shower of shredded paper and twine as claws ripped into wrapping paper… therefore, she was surprised to find he carefully untied the string and peeled back the folds until he reached the box. Sliding off the top and carefully setting it aside, the gift within was finally revealed.

She clasped her hands together behind her back, rocking from heel-to-toe anxiously as she awaited his response. He just… stared at it, for a minute, and she was beginning to believe he might not like it. Maybe he thought she was implying he was old, or maybe she’d gotten the wrong model entirely and he didn’t even know what it was supposed to be. There was a chance she’d gotten one that had been released _after_ he died… Charlie was just about the least knowledgeable demon concerning human inventions. Her father was an _expert_ , but getting in contact with him not only would've been difficult, it would've been very, very awkward.

Suddenly, he began to laugh. The most cheerful, jovial chuckle she had ever heard from him… A melodious, charming sort of sound that warmed her heart. A hesitant little smile started to spread across her face as she quietly sought absolute affirmation, “Do you… like it?”

Alastor studied the phonogram, sliding his fingertips carefully across the gleaming, brass sound horn, along the crank and then eventually over the sides of the dark-stained wooden base. It was an older model, but he remembered seeing a few like it. “I adore it, my dear. I never thought I’d see one of these again. She used to have one just like it…” He cast another loving look towards the photo of his mother, before turning back to Charlie with the same amount of affection in his eyes. She felt the warmth of his appreciative, dare she say _loving_ , gaze wash over her and completely envelope her. “Thank you, sweetheart. I look forward to using it!”

It took a great amount of effort to keep her feet on the floor, as Charlie felt like she could start floating at any given moment and it would take an army to get her to come back down again. “You’re welcome, Al… I forgot to pick up any music for it, though!” She slapped a palm against her forehead, followed by a defeated sigh. “Guess it’s not actually doing you any good, now.”

“Nonsense! I’m sure we can whip _something_ up, give it a try right now…”

Raising his arm, the lights in the room flickered then darkened as a familiar, somewhat ominous, green glow cut through the darkness – surrounding Alastor’s fist. Charlie was certain she could hear a sort of distant whirling, like winds howling far away, for a split second. When he flexed his fingers outwards, a vinyl record appeared in-hand – out of thin air. The lights then returned to their original brightness, and it was as if nothing had happened.

“Jeez,” she began, glancing around wide-eyed, “if you could do that – you could’ve just made your own record player… phonograph… thingy.”

Chuckling, he gently placed the record upon the turntable. She craned her neck to better see, watching closely as he began going through practiced motions of getting the device up and running – they were familiar to him, obviously, as it was mere moments before sound began to travel from the device. “I _could_ have, certainly. But to receive it as a gift from you? Now, _that_ gives it value.”

The music that drifted from the phonograph’s horn caused Charlie to immediately tap her foot alongside the mellow melody. There was no doubt it was quite an old song, apparent by the recording’s tinny sound. She found the music lover inside wanted to sway along as the tune continued, and before she knew it – she was doing just that.

_Is it a sin, is it a crime_

_Loving you, dear, like I do?_

_If it's a crime, then I'm guilty_

_Guilty of loving you_

Alastor had taken her in his arms, and she didn’t complain or protest when she felt his arm wind around her waist. Their hands slipped together once more, fingers intertwining, as they began to move in perfect time together. Before long, Charlie had forgotten about everything else – there was only the music, now, music and her partner. The part of her brain that told her this was all wrong, the part that was screaming at her to stop before someone’s feelings were hurt, had been effectively and utterly silenced for the time… for better or worse. It was not their first time dancing together, though it _was_ their first experience moving together to a slower tempo such as this – they fit together perfectly as they moved about the room gracefully, and it wasn’t long before Charlie found her head resting against Alastor’s shoulder.

_Maybe I'm wrong_

_Dreaming of you_

_Dreaming the lonely night through_

_If it's a crime, then I'm guilty_

_Guilty of dreaming of you_

It could’ve stayed that way forever, and both of them would have liked it that way. But, for reasons unique to each of them, it just could not be… and they knew that. Their dance regrettably came to an awkward end before the song did, as they mutually ceased to move together. Alastor cleared his throat, dusting off his jacket while Charlie tucked some hair behind her ear.

“That was… lovely, Al. But I…” it felt pointless to bring up Vaggie, now. He knew she was taken – he’d known that from the beginning. Surely, he knew and respected that… this had been merely a dance between friends. It definitely had not felt that way, but perhaps Charlie had misinterpreted his meaning entirely, mistaken kindness for misplaced affection. Moreover, it _had_ to be that way.

His old grin, one Charlie recognized now as forced, had returned as he clasped his hands together behind his back. “My dear, you needn’t explain yourself to me. Of course I know you simply must get back to work. Everyone will be looking for you! How selfish of me to keep you for so long when you are _such_ a busy woman.” He offered a curt bow. “I shouldn’t be slacking, myself. Plenty of time for dancing later.”

But there wasn’t – not for them. Charlie would be lying if she said she wasn’t in pain, if she said her heart wasn’t on the verge of breaking. How had she allowed herself to get so caught up in this? In this… _fantasy_? She really was just what her father said – a foolish girl, a dreamer with no real understanding of the world. And most of all, a _selfish_ girl.

“I… I’ll see you later, Al.”

“Goodnight then, Charlotte.”

She slumped against the door to Alastor’s room when it closed behind her, still able to hear the gentle music flowing from the phonograph, and shut her eyes. It was just a dance between friends – at least, that was what she kept repeating over and over in her mind. Alastor was her _friend_ , and that moment they had just shared was not going to change that. She didn’t dare venture into thinking about how she wanted them to be so much more than that, how she wanted nothing more than to look into his eyes as they danced and share a kiss… No. He was just a friend. _He_ didn’t want to be anything more than that to her, after all.

On the other side of the door, Alastor slid unceremoniously into his chair near the music player. With his chin resting on a fist, he stared at nothing in particular – his eyes merely roved over the room absentmindedly, as he struggled to keep his thoughts at bay. Charlie didn’t care about him that way – how could she, really? She was taken, and quite happily so, it appeared, by that… _difficult_ little moth demon. And there wasn’t any foreseeable future for the two of them, anyway, even _if_ Vaggie were not a part of the picture. Guilt was burning him from the inside, hotter and more intense than any of Hell’s fires. He had to stop it, had to cut his feelings for the princess out at the root _fast._ Though that was much easier said than done.

If _he_ found out…? Perish the thought. _His_ wrath was comparable to no other. While Alastor struggled to find anyone capable of intimidating him among the peons and common rabble, that man could strike fear into his heart _with ease_. And Alastor had wound himself up in his affairs, found himself in bondage to him, foolishly forced to answer to him and carry out his bidding. Alone, his smile finally faltered. Sliding further down in his seat, he shut his eyes and focused once again on the music as the song neared its end.

_Maybe I'm right_

_Maybe I'm wrong_

_Loving you, dear, like I do_

_If it's a crime, then I'm guilty_

_Guilty of loving you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo much angst! I know everything seems a little hopeless, for everyone, right now but don't worry - things will begin looking up soon. If you're interested in the song that plays near the end, it's "Guilty" by Al Bowlly. ;) As always, thanks for reading!


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